Ma:Please be careful.
A lump formed in Ben’s throat. She’d finished every text exchange with him over the last two weeks this way. Every time, Ben could hear the restraint in the words, how hard she was trying. Typically, Iris Caravalho did not bite her tongue.
God, he missed her.
He missed Ma, and Dad, and Julie, and his baby sister Carolina, and his old roommate Khalil, and London, and practically everything about Nashville, Tennessee.
Another text popped up, from Jeremy, an old coworker from the coffee shop. The one who had hiked the Appalachian Trail shortly before getting hired, who never shut the fuck up about it, who had planted the seeds of this trip into Ben’s brain years ago.
He’d sent Jeremy the same photo he’d sent Ma, of the Coachella sunset.
Jeremy:fuck yeah, man. you’re doing it
Ben blew out a breath.
In truth, the seeds of this hike had been in Ben’s brain for a long time. Jeremy’s incessant storytelling about the AT only helped germinate them. He had been a rambunctious kid, full of too much energy, barely contained in his small body. All the Caravalhos were full of restless energy, in a way, but while his older brother Tiago had put his into sports, and Carolina had put hers into ruthless academics, Ben had bloomed in the outdoors. He felt truly, fully at ease only when he was on the move in the open air. Exploring. Discovering.
Once he grew past the age where playing in the dirt wasn’t an acceptable form of daily activity, though, his restlessness had amplified in other, less cute, unhealthier ways. Almost the entire decade of his twenties had been a string of bad decisions: failed relationships, missed family obligations, messy hookups. Strings of jobs that paid the bills but didn’t satisfy much else.
Until two years ago, when Ben had finally been able to focus enough to go back to school and get his nursing degree. Which he was proud of. He had worked harder than he’d ever worked at anything to get that degree, and he was excited to start a legit career he truly cared about.
He was also nervous as hell.
So when he passed the NCLEX, instead of applying to jobs right away, he came here first. To the West Coast, the PCT, an outdoor adventure unlike any he’d ever experienced before. One last chance, on the precipice of his thirtieth birthday, to get his restlessness out. To commit to better decisions. To see something new, something grand, while he prepared his new, responsible life.
Ben stared at that text a few minutes longer.
Jeremy was right. Of course Ben missed Nashville. He was tripping over logs and barely avoiding getting bitten by rattlesnakes. Questioning, most days, whether he’d actually make it all the way to Canada.
But damn, at least right here, right now—he was doing it.
“All right, boys.” Faraj stood from his chair, its legs scuttling backward. Ben startled, realizing he’d been as lost in his phone as Alexei had been with his birds. “We should get a move on if we’re hoping for twenty-two today. And hopefully catch up with Leon at some point, the dumb fuck.”
Ben held in a sigh. These guys were all right, but they were gung-ho thru-hikers, into making big miles every day. Honestly, Ben thought Faraj was being a little wild, trying to push for a twenty-two on a day when they’d already lost a lot of time walking into town. But Tanner and Faraj had both had resupply boxes to pick up from the post office here, and Ben never said no to the chance of hitting up real food and bathrooms.
But now that the rich food was settling in his stomach—now that he’d had decent service for the first time in a week and could reconnect with his people—Ben didn’t see what the big rush was.
Tanner and Ryan collected their packs. Faraj gathered everyone’s empty cans. Until he got to Alexei’s.
“Cool, man.” He placed it back in front of Alexei after picking it up and feeling its weight. “Take your time. Maybe we’ll see you out there?”
A crease appeared in Alexei’s forehead, but he smoothed it away as quickly as it had appeared.
“Yeah.” He clearly forced a smile. “Thanks.”
Ben took another sip of water. This poor guy probably didn’t even drink beer.
Tanner, Ryan, and Faraj clicked hip and shoulder belts into place.
“You all right there, Ben?” Ryan asked after a minute.
It was a fair question. Ben himself didn’t quite know what he was doing, exactly, as he continued to sit where he was. Probably making a bad decision. The exact kind of bad decision he’d come to the PCT to finally start avoiding.
Because 95 percent of Ben’s bad decisions usually started with beautiful men.
But…it was so nice here at Tommy’s Kitchen. Watching Alexei. Listening to birds.
So Ben kept sitting anyway.
